E-Book Review 8: Girl on the Net – My Not-So-Shameful Sex Secrets
Review it, Your Royal Buffness: For approximately 300 clicks on my Kindle I got to be inside the head of a girl. A dirty, filthy girl who thinks about sex a lot. A girl who loves fucking, who loves to experiment with fucking and all things around fucking. A girl who loves cock, a girl who gets wet at the thought of cock. A girl that loves to be spanked and whipped. A girl who fantasises about wanking guys off in alleyways. She’s like some kind of incredible fantasy – a woman who likes sex as much as men do… except, that isn’t a ‘fantasy’, is it? It’s not a fantasy because it’s reality – as Girl on the Net is at pains to point out in her wonderfully direct prose, women love fucking just as much – or as little – as men do.
This is a memoir that shatters lazy cliches and misguided preconceptions. We all know the notion that women don’t masturbate is preposterous, but here, in e-print, Girl on the Net finally kicks that myth in the knackers with her irresistible memories of her teenage self frantically frigging off at the thought of being tied up by lascivious pirates. Meanwhile, her insights into what was going through her head as she talked dirty with ‘First Love’, or as she encouraged ‘Number One’ and ‘Number Two’ to explore her body so she, in turn, could get her hands on them, are fantastically realised – women are sure to nod and smile, while for men it’s like getting to peer behind the curtain. For any reader, these memories are sure to evoke fond, sexy remembrances of our own clumsy yet breathtaking teenage fumblings.
But while this is a book about Girl on the Net’s own experiences, it’s also something much wider – something approaching the most enjoyable (non-practical) Sex-Ed lesson you’re ever likely to have. Girl on the Net doesn’t just explain what she likes and what she’s gotten up to in her adult life – she digs much deeper to try and explain why she does what she does. Not that this is a therapy exercise – what I mean is that she explains, with frank and often extremely erotic honesty, how she feels when she sees, for example, a hard cock straining inside tight jeans, or what turns her on about being spanked with merciless vigour. And, just occasionally, she reveals what she doesn’t like (root ginger in the arse).
A few years ago, I came up with an idea. I suggested to a friend that a few of us, male and female, should hire a cottage for a weekend in the country. And then, over the course of the weekend, everyone just talks, but has to be totally honest about everything: their deepest desires, their worst fears, their biggest turn-ons, their darkest thoughts. He looked at me like I was mad. And maybe I was, but you can’t help feeling when reading this book (or her wonderful blog) that this is exactly what Girl on the Net is doing. She’s scooping out every desire and want and experience from her brain and laying it out for us. She asks us to enjoy it, while encouraging us to embrace that same kind of sexual freedom.
What drives this memoir is certainly the sex itself. Although there’s plenty of love in here, and heartbreak and neuroses and politics, it’s the sex that makes it. As fun and as strong as Girl on the Net’s writing is throughout, the book really comes alive when she describes the fucking. When such a scene is approaching, whether it’s the time she fucked ‘Number Two’ while ‘Number One’ was in the next room, or the first time ‘Number Twenty-Six’ took her roughly, you can feel the fizz in her writing; you can almost picture her closing her eyes, remembering, and then struggling to type because one hand is on the keyboard and the other is down her pants.
That kind of urgency, that desire to get down in words, graphically yet filthily beautifully, puts this book into a separate category from the broad genre of ‘erotica’. This isn’t ‘erotica’, really… perhaps we could term it ‘Gonzo Erotica’. Its visceral realness, its raw honesty kicks you, as Girl on the Net loves to say, in the gut – it frequently, as she would also say, makes you go ‘unngh’ when you read it.
And yet if you spend much of the book wondering what it would be like to spend a dirty hour in bed (or five minutes in an alleyway) with Girl on the Net, by the end, as you come to know her, or, at least, as much as she lets you know, what you really want to do is to go for a pint with her. Because the thing that makes Girl on the Net so compelling is not necessarily her love of fucking, it’s how she loves it and why she loves it and how, with great humour and warmth, she tells you about it.
Rate it, Horndog: Five out of Five Stars.